Twelve Hours of Rush
by Mexwojo
Summary: Why is trouble always finding Jordan? This is an AU just before Crash
1. As long as I don't have to make the ride

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own any of the characters of Crossing Jordan._

_**Summary: **__Why is trouble always finding Jordan? This is an AU just before Crash._

_**A/N:**__ There are two scary things about this story, but I've made up my mind, and I finally decided that I was going to do it. First of all, it's an AU. I have never been comfortable writing out of canon, or something that was actually different from what we saw at the show, so this will be something really big (for me). Second thing is that I'm doing this without beta, so, you may find some (I hope not that many) mistakes (grammar and word meaning), but if you were so kind to let me know it in a personal private message it would be great. And if you only want to say hi, or any comment that you don't want to put in a review, oh gosh! It would be wonderful!_

_It's like baby steps._

_As always, your reviews will be really appreciated! _

**Story: Twelve Hours of R****ush**

**Chapter 1: As long as I don't have to make the ride in the back.**

Their shifts had ended, and as they had been doing lately, they were sharing a well deserved dinner at the fancy restaurant just around the corner from the morgue. They were chatting, enjoying their new found intimacy. Like an old couple, albeit they weren't a couple, and never had been one. Deep feelings restrained at bay, only showing what was really necessary to let the other one know that they were more than very good friends.

Last week they had been involved in a very strange case that had thrown Jordan in a melancholic state of heart. The frantic search of a daughter, suspected of murdering her own father, and the father, who had arrived at the police station as a dead, living corps. Jordan had been there when he died, and she had acted as she was his profoundly loved daughter. That reminded her of her own father, and she had ended calling her dad that day.

Woody had noticed her almost not talkative condition, and he had cornered her that afternoon to talk about the subject. Things had gone very well; Jordan had opened her soul to him. She missed her dad immensely. However, she had contacted him, and she knew now that he was doing fine. It was a step forward to heal her relationship with her dad, and the conversation that she was having with Woody at the time, was also some good steps forward for her relationship with the blue eyed detective. They weren't on the same page yet, but close to it.

She was still reluctant to expose her feelings freely to him. After all, he hadn't said a word for her to know what was going on in his heart. However, everybody around them could see how they were just fooling their own selves with their game, for everybody noticed that the inevitable was about to happen.

They had finished their meals, and were ready to leave to their own apartments.

"It's my turn this time, Jordan_"_ Woody said digging in his wallet and glancing at her. _"_It's only fair as I wouldn't have been able to crack the chainsaw case without your help, girl._"_ He handed his credit card to the cashier, while a wide smile appeared on Jordan's face.

"Isn't it always?" She observed, in a teasing way.

He grinned, "by the way, are you going home now?" He had 'mischievous' written all over him, a posture that took her by surprise.

Her heart made a lump, and then stopped beating for a second. However, her face was neutral. "Well, yeah…"

The cashier returned the card to Woody. They moved to walk to the exit, and as they walked, he glanced at her playfully. His eyes sparkled like a five-year-old's. "'Cause I was kind of hoping you could give me a lift. Ya know. My car got stranded with three flat tires at the police garage after I chased that loony, and they told me it wouldn't be ready until tomorrow, they didn't have tires right now."

Jordan gulped, making an extraordinary effort to support her neutral face. It didn't have anything to do with what she had imagined… _"_As well as you enjoy traveling in a morgue van, 'cause Kate has my car."She answered, nonchalantly.

He frowned, his smile never leaving his features, somehow puzzled by her response. _"_And why is that Kate has your car?"

"Long story. I lost a bet." She sighed. "She doesn't have a car. Nigel's fault she says… I still owe her a full week, and since I'm on the night watch, I took borrowed a van from the morgue."

"Ooookay, so…" He shrugged. "I don't mind, as long as I don't have to make the ride in the back, lying on the stretcher, it's alright with me. I'm really beaten."

"I'm driving, I must warn you, ok?" She said after she swept his figure with a mocking gaze.

He lifted his hands up in a manner he meant he had given up even before he could argue. "Ok, ok. Just remember you'll be traveling with an officer of the law. No passing red lights, no exceeding speed limit, and it'll be fine with me."

She stared at him, pretending that he had hit a nerve. "Who exactly do you think I am? And since I can recall, last time it was you who got a traffic ticket." She pinned her index finger to his chest, menacingly, though her eyes were gleaming humorously.

"Point taken." He lifted his eyebrows, nodding at the time. They both laughed, light heartedly, and strode to the morgue parking lot.

When they climbed in the morgue van, they were still talking about the Kate's bet episode. Jordan didn't want to say a thing about it, and the more she neglected to tell the story, the more Woody strived to get the story out of her.

"I give up." He finally said. _"_You don't want to spill the beans? Just don't. Still, I have to tell you that the woman gives me the creeps" and he shuddered as if he had felt a ghost passing by.

"I don't know why, she's actually a very good person." Jordan replied. She was focused on the driving, but she was also glancing at him from time to time, amused.

Woody turned to stare at her, completely stunned. "What?! Of all the people, I thought you were the last one who'd defend her. I don't know what she gave you when she stayed with you after the Bug thing, but I can tell you, she's scary."

Jordan was about to answer him when something else drew her attention away from their conversation. "The way is blocked! What are they doing? Is it a truck from the electric power company? What the fuck!" She cursed, inwardly, as she hit the brakes abruptly.

Woody managed to put a hand on the right side of his head to prevent smashing his skull against the window. "Easy, Jordan!"

"Oh, well. I guess we'll have to take the tunnel now. I know a shortcut. I don't want to be stuck in peak-hour traffic." She said as she drove away from the blocked street. "So good you're with me, huh? A southie girl knows all the Boston roads, Woods. You'll be resting at home in no time." She added, rather jokingly.

Woody looked at her intensely, he had changed his demeanor completely. It was again that adoring stance Jordan didn't know how to deal with. "Am I with you? Good to know."

She avoided looking back at him this time. Her heart was racing and that steered her to hit the speed without noticing it.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you look when you curse? " He was making his move, but Jordan didn't feel ready yet for that to happen, if ever, so she did what she did best. She ran away, literally. The morgue van almost made a spin on two wheels when she suddenly changed lanes.

Woody got distracted from his intentions, as he was now shouting at her to watch the cars that were in front and on their left side. Jordan just kept cursing, as she hit the brakes again. This time that move took them out of the highway, but didn't manage to avoid crashing on one of the cars she was trying not to collide.

After a fleeting instant of recovering, learning what had just happened, Woody examined Jordan's tense body on his left side, and asked her, almost panicked_. _"Are you alright?"

She nodded, taking a big breathe. "Yes, yes, it wasn't that hard."

As Woody made sure that she was OK, he climbed out of the van, rushing to find out what was going on with the people in the other car. Jordan struggled to get there, too. However, a big guy that she thought had come up from nowhere caught her arm strongly. Then, she realized that he had gotten out from the car at her left side, the one she had succeeded to avoid. He was keeping her trapped.

From where she was, she could see a guy coming out of the car at her front, the car she had actually crashed. Woody was in front of this man, asking if he was alright, when another man behind the detective took advantage of the situation and knocked Woody down, hammering his head with the butt of a gun.

It was surreal. From where were those fellows emerging? And more important, why did he punch Woody? He was just trying to help!

She was yelling and struggling to free herself from the man that had her wedged, but nobody seemed to understand her. The other two guys dragged Woody's body to the back of the morgue van and they all but lobbed him in there. He landed on the stretcher like a stack of potatoes.

Jordan was pulled toward the back of the van too. A woman was already waiting for her, and she made her enter the van, as she was silently threatening her by pointing a gun to her head. She tied her up, arms and legs, and then she put a tape on her mouth. Next, she searched for something in her clothes pockets, until she found her cell. She dug it out and tossed it outside the van. After that, her kidnapper performed the same procedure on Woody's motionless body, though she also found his service pistol and his badge. Those two articles weren't dismissed. The woman grabbed them with her.

As rapidly as everything had gone off, the woman and the man left them locked in there. She was wondering what had just occurred, in a state of shock, when the vehicle started to move.

She could only observe, distressed, Woody's figure lying still on the stretcher, in the back of the morgue van.


	2. We’ll Have to Improvise

_**A/N**__**: **__ Hey! I know I have to apologize that it took me two long weeks to update. I said I was going to do this story without a beta reader, and I changed my mind. So, I contacted a great lady on the board, moviemom44 (pure gold), and she is now working on my stuff. Deliveries should be steady now, as I also accepted a challenge Amelie took me into: 15000 words in August!_

_Wendie, I don't know how to thank you, everything you suggested __was just the right thing to do!_

Chapter two. **We'll have to improvise**.

"Dr. Cavanaugh is entering the parking lot now, but she isn't alone, Boss. A big guy is with her," a man with a thick beard informed his chief through the tiny microphone hidden in his shirt collar. He was watching Jordan and Woody through the window of his car, a black Aspen SUV. He listened for a moment through the ear piece in his left ear and then answered "Yes, they're walking toward the morgue van, I think he's gonna climb in it with her." He answered to the one that he was calling 'Boss'.

On the other end of the line, 'Boss' was seated in the back of a silver Chrysler 300, a brand new shiny car. The man in question was in his sixties. He had a rather nice face, and was bald as a white bowling ball.

A woman beside him was questioning him with her eyes, until 'Boss' answered back. "Don't lose sight of her. We don't have time to change the plan. We'll have to deal with her date."

"What did Ray say?" The blonde lady had a computer on her lap and was consulting it while she asked.

"That we have an unexpected boyfriend. We're not sure if she's going home. We'll need to block the way and catch them up immediately after," Boss answered. He placed a finger on his earpiece and spoke to somebody else through his own hidden microphone. "Hardy, did you put the tracking device in the van?"

There was silence for a moment, then, Boss continued, "Good…" He tilted his head to his companion. "Do you have the signal now?"

Blondie just nodded to him, tension written all over her face. Boss continued over the speaker, "The signal is up. You'll have to block her way. Ray and I will intercept them. Just be sure that she'll take the tunnel road OK?"

Then, to the driver, Boss commanded, "Step on it, son."

As soon as the car started to move, he ordered, "Everybody, keep in touch through the radios. This is our only chance. We'll have to improvise."

Once he said that, Blondie fitted an earpiece to her head, resigned to the state of events.

Fifteen minutes later, the Aspen SUV and the Chrysler 300 were in front and the left side of the morgue van where Jordan and Woody were riding. The van had made a sudden change of lanes, almost as if they knew that they were being followed and were making an intrepid escape. The Chrysler 300 forced the van turn to their right, while the Aspen was striving to block the way in their front. The van struggled with the actions, and ended crashing on the Aspen. However, they obtained what they wanted, as the van had made the turn to a solitary road.

The driver of the Chrysler 300, a young man in his twenties who had resembled of Boss, got out of the car and forced Jordan to stay with him. Meanwhile, the driver of the Aspen - the thick bearded man- was getting off of the black SUV, befuddled by the hit but somehow in good shape. Another car had just arrived, an old white Honda parked behind the van.

From inside the Chrysler 300, Boss watched as Hardy got out of the Honda, aiming a gun at Woody's back. Boss immediately barked, "You don't have to shoot him, asshole! Just knock him out and put him in the back of the van."

At this command, a disappointed Hardy grasped the barrel of the gun and clubbed Woody on the back of the head, knocking him unconscious.

Boss gave Blondie a gun, and she glared back at him. He cocked his head to her and commanded. "You know what to do, Helen."

"You said we wouldn't have to kill, Mr. Green", she uttered, with an angry face.

"And we won't," he responded. "Just do your job."

Woody was thrown on the stretcher and Jordan was forced to enter with him into the back of the van. Helen handed her gun to the bearded man, and he held it on Jordan and Woody. She tied them up. It was then when she discovered that the 'date' was a cop.

After everything had concluded, Hardy started the van's engine.

Ray, the bearded, injured man, sat in the van's passenger seat beside Hardy. "That woman is crazy! She almost got us killed," he blurted out, caressing his sore neck with his hand. "Lucky for us this van is still functional, or else all of this would have been for nothing."

Hardy, a callous-faced man with no sign of intelligence in his green eyes, asked Ray, "You sure you can still handle it? You look stupid." He snorted and continued, making it sound sarcastic, "I mean, a little unsteady."

"Shut up! You just watch out you don't blow all this with your crazy behavior. You almost killed a cop, you retard!" Ray yelled at him.

Ray was still ranting when Hardy let go of the steering wheel and started punching him. With no one at the controls, the van began bouncing from one side of the road to the other, tires squealing, until Ray managed to grab the wheel even while Hardy was still pounding on him.

"Alright! Alright! I'm sorry I called you a retard!" Ray apologized. "Now quit hitting me and drive, man! I didn't get in on this job just so I could die in this stupid van." He waited until Hardy had his hands on the wheel and then let go and sat back in his own seat.

Mr. Green, Helen and the Chrysler 300's driver, were observing with incredulity their endeavor almost vanishing, "What the hell is going on in there?" Boss asked, a mixture of concern and anger in his voice. From what he had seen, the van had swerved violently for a few seconds and then held steady again.

"Yes, Boss. We had, uh, a misunderstanding, but everything is cool now," Hardy answered.

"Good. Be sure it won't happen again," Mr. Green told them.

Meanwhile, back inside of the van, Jordan was still staring, confused and distressed at Woody, when the vehicle's wild movements threw her on the floor. All tied up as she was, she couldn't get up again, she was now staring at the ceiling of the van and struggling to balance the stretcher with her tied feet.

There was nothing else she could do, except for thinking. What the hell was going on? Had it been a random kidnapping? Why were these people assaulting a morgue van? And the most important question of all… was Woody alright? There hadn't been any sign of blood, but still…

It went that way for a moment, until Woody's body landed on her.

While Jordan had daydreamed many times about her beloved, blue-eyed man lying on top of her, this wasn't exactly what she had in mind. Their faces were almost touching. She was grateful that she could feel his breath warm on her cheeks. At least he was alive. She tried to move so that he would be able to lie beside her, instead of on top of her, but she was trapped between the stretcher and the van's steel bench, so she couldn't manage it.

On second thought, she realized, even in their strange and complicated situation, she didn't' really want him to move. He was just fine where he was, lying on top of her, his heartbeats steady and strong against her chest. It was intoxicating. Moreover, she could feel his lower body against hers and even though he was unconscious, things were beginning to happen down there...

Oh God! He was a gorgeous man! Why couldn't she just invite him with her all the lonely nights that she had been suffering thinking of him?

Well, yeah, it was always her unbearable fear. After all, she had invited him one night, and he had said no.

'Too soon'. Who had said it? … Yes, yes, it had been her.

Then it was the Lu thing, too. Poor Lu. It was mean of her to involve the dead, good-looking cop in it. Whose fault it had been? She didn't know, she didn't want to know, and she wasn't about to confer guilt that was in the past.

But since then, she had grown up. She'd been a death's door and now was back among the living, a fact that she was more and more aware of the longer Woody's body was pressed against hers.

She was immersed in those peculiar thoughts when the van's shoving got stabilized. Woody's motionless and dazzling body hadn't given an inch. However, she was beginning to have trouble breathing, and she struggled to free herself from him, under her own irrepressible protests. Nonetheless, the more she tried to force him to shift aside, the more his body reacted to being on top of her. With him getting harder by the minute, she had a whole new reason for not being able to breathe.

It was then when he started to consciously react. He popped an eye open. He was having an extremely weird dream about Jordan. It happened to him rather frequently, but this one had been oddly vivid. He needed to release the sexual tension one of these days, because it was becoming uncomfortable to wake up in this manner…

He found it strange that the first thing he could see was Jordan's bewildered eyes on him.

Wait a minute… it wasn't a dream! Was he lying on top of her? Were they dressed? Thank God! So, he needed to focus and remember what had occurred.

However, if he pretended that he wasn't completely awake yet, it would be wonderful. He had Jordan right where he wanted, but … why were they in that position? And where were they lying exactly?

He opened his eyes completely, and stared stunned at Jordan. Then, he realized that he was smashing her with his weight, so he strived to get up, making an extraordinary effort to get on his knees without using his arms. For some odd reason, they were all tied up… tied up and traveling in the back of a van… the morgue van.

What had happened? Last thing he remembered was Jordan crashing into a SUV, and himself asking the SUV's driver if he was OK.

Woody tried to talk, unaware that his mouth was taped shut. He succeeded in making a few grunts and guttural sounds, but nothing Jordan could understand.

She, on the other hand, was now relieved of his weight, but her breathing was still erratic. Woody took notice that she was having trouble with something. He didn't know exactly what it was, though. He looked at her, displaying legitimate concern.

Suddenly, the vehicle made a stop that took them by surprise. Woody couldn't maintain his upright position, and he landed on top of Jordan again.

The van started its motion one more time. They were eyes against eyes, chest against the chest, struggling to unglue their bodies for a second time. Woody wondered if he could manage to keep from getting another erection, but Jordan's stunning body was making that very difficult. He was beginning to feel cold sweat running down his face, when the van made another sudden stop.

Helen and Mr. Green found them in that position when they opened the van's doors. Woody didn't know if he should be grateful or embarrassed by what they saw.


	3. Why is it that I keep dragging you along

_Here we go again!  
_

_I want to thank my reviewers, and I also want to thank Wendie._

_moviemom44, I couldn't say it in a better way than you did._

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_

Chapter three. **Why is it that I keep dragging you along with me****?**

"Helen, you know it has to be this way." Mr. Green addressed the blonde lady. "Your gun isn't loaded, dear. Mine is."

The stress she had been through was clearly revealed on her features. She was a young woman, early thirties, with light blue eyes and a very thin figure. Helen grabbed the gun that Mr. Green was offering to her, the same one she had taken to threaten the female coroner they had kidnapped. There had to be something really big going on for this woman because although it was clear she wasn't comfortable doing what she was doing, there wasn't a sign that could prove Mr. Green was forcing her into it.

"OK, let's do it," she finally said, tilting her chin up and throwing her shoulders back with renewed determination. They were striding toward two other people, in the middle of a dark parking lot. At the end of the open ground, there was a big warehouse, old and abandoned. There were no other buildings in sight.

Helen glanced anxiously at one of the people waiting for them, a pretty, young, dark-haired woman, who looked back at her reassuringly.

"They're just pulling in now, Gramps," the driver of the Chrysler 300 informed Mr. Green. As the old man and Helen joined him and the brunette, the younger man pointed and said, "Look," drawing everyone's attention to the entrance to the parking lot. The morgue van parked next to the group as Mr. Green consulted his wrist watch.

"We're on time," he said. Turning again to his grandson, he asked, "Pete, is it ready?"

"Yes, Gramps, everything is secured for whatever you need it for." Pete confirmed.

"You grab the badge, son. It would be easier for us if a _brand new detective_ was on the scene, OK?" the old man said as Helen handed Pete the badge she took from Woody earlier. "We'll talk about it after we've taken care of the _real _detective." Continuing with the instructions, he addressed the dark-haired woman, "Debra, we'll need something for that, do you have anything?"

Debra sighed. "I may have. I need to make a quick inspection, though."

Hardy and Ray exited the van and joined the group. Even in the dim light of the parking lot, they could see a big bruise on Ray's eye that wasn't there when they'd last seen him at the crash site. Mr. Green closed his eyes and took a big breathe, lifting his right hand to his temple. Then, he uttered rather calmly, "Hardy, you have to cool off, buddy. Did you take your medication?"

Hardy shrugged. Ray glared at him.

"You did it again, you moron!" the injured man yelled as he began forcefully searching Hardy's coat pockets until he found a bottle of medicine. He yanked the bottle up so hard that the lid popped off, sending several pills flying into the air. Pete's quick reflexes allowed him to catch some in mid-air while the rest fell to the ground. Ray grabbed one off the ground, clenched an arm around Hardy's head and squeezed his nose shut. The instant Hardy opened his mouth to gasp for air, Ray threw the pill in and shouted, "There! Swallow it!"

Hardy choked on the pill, but when he recovered, he was already kicking Ray's legs. It was then that Mr. Green interceded, gripping Hardy's arm. "Did you swallow the pill?" he asked, compellingly. His words seemed to work magic as Hardy suddenly calmed and nodded toward his boss like a small child.

"Good." Mr. Green appeared satisfied with the outcome. He continued, "Let's get them out of there", and he pointed toward the van, making everybody understand that the real thing was about to begin. "You all know what to do."

When they opened the van's doors, Jordan and Woody were lying on the floor. Woody's first impression of the old man and the blonde woman was of two nice people. However, he immediately acknowledged the guns that they were carrying. He didn't know what was going on, but he didn't like it so far.

Hardy and Ray grabbed hold of Woody's arms, and lifted him down out of the van before removing him from Jordan's view. After that, Helen helped Jordan to her feet. Jordan glared at her, questioningly, but the blonde avoided her eyes. Pete gripped Jordan by the arm, keeping her trapped as he had done at the crash site, and led her in the direction that the other two men had taken Woody.

Inside the warehouse, Jordan found Woody tied to a chair in the middle of a large brightly lit room. He couldn't have moved the chair if he had wanted to as it was chained to one of the large columns holding up the roof. Jordan saw a brunette woman examining Woody as though she were a physician, taking his pulse, pulling on his lower eyelids to check his eyes.

She watched helplessly as the woman removed a syringe and a bottle of clear liquid from a medical bag, prepared a shot and injected it into Woody's arm. Jordan struggled to free herself from Pete's grip, but she couldn't break his hold on her. Nearly hysterical, she screamed against the tape across her mouth, but the only sound that escaped was a muffled grunt.

She watched him with panic in her eyes. At first, the shot didn't seem to affect him. Their eyes met and they shared a look of deep concern.

The old, bald man they had been calling 'Boss' came into the room and ordered Pete to take the tape off of her mouth. "I'm really sorry, Dr. Cavanaugh, about the way we brought you here." He cocked his head toward the cop. "And about ruining your date."

Jordan didn't have the patience to hear some stupid speech from this wacko. She growled at him. "What did she inject him with?! Tell me! What was it?"

"Don't worry, doctor, he'll be fine," he sighed. "It all depends on you, dear." He made a dramatic pause, while Jordan was still glaring at him with incredulity. "I need a favor."

"What?! What the hell! Are you threatening me?" she yelled, defiant.

"I don't like the way you put it, dear. However, I think it would be convenient if you think of this as a deal. You see?" He smiled widely, as if the arrangement he offered her were a good one.

Was this man out of his mind? He had kidnapped them. Woody had been injected with God knew what, and he was expecting her to cooperate? "What do you want? I don't even know you!" She was spitting the words, as if she was barking at him like a fierce animal restrained only by a feeble leash.

"Oh formalities." He let out a small laugh. "I'm Mr. Green." He bowed and waved with a flourish. Then, he turned rather serious. "I want you on a crime scene, dear --a charade." He grinned. His blue eyes sparkled with the thought as he continued in his charming manner, "However, I need to infuse our pretense with some credibility, so I need your services as a County Medical Examiner. The less you know about it, the better for you, my dear doctor."

Jordan was listening to Mr. Green, still wondering what this madman had in mind beyond the things he had already told her, when she looked at Woody and discovered that he had fainted.

"What did you give him?! " she shouted, struggling again with her captor, trying to liberate herself from him.

"Nothing dangerous. You need to calm down," the old man addressed her, menacingly. "However, it could be something _very dangerous_ if you don't cooperate, doctor. Your detective will be staying here with Hardy," he said, pointing to the man in question, who was toying with a gun, performing stupid games by pointing it at Woody. "I have to make sure you don't pull any heroic stunts. If you do, it will cost your handsome detective his life."

After an awkward, agonizing moment, he asked her. "Do we have a deal?"

Jordan glanced worriedly at Woody, and then at Hardy. She closed her eyes and nodded. What else could she do? She didn't know what these people were capable of, and she sure as hell didn't like the looks of the psycho being left in charge of Woody.

"Release her," Mr. Green ordered. "We'll leave in five minutes." Once he said that, he left the room, leaving the lunatic guardian, the young man and an injured, bearded man to watch over her and Woody.

Pete unleashed the ropes and whispered into her ear. "You better not attempt anything dangerous. Hardy isn't a trusty person. You have five minutes."

When she was liberated, she ran toward the tied man and knelt beside him. "Woody," she uttered. He had his head hanging to one side, his face was pale, and his eyes were closed. He didn't seem to be breathing, either. She didn't like the way he looked.

"Woody." This time, his name came out in a whisper. She cupped his head in her hands and lifted him to her, observing his features carefully. He was cold. She had been a medical examiner for too long to let appearances deceive her. While he appeared to be dead, she knew he probably wasn't, but she wasn't taking any chances. This was Woody, _her Woody_. She had to be sure.

"Woody!" she yelled this time, yet he didn't wake up.

She let go of his head, gently, lifting a hand to her mouth. She was struggling to control her breathing, as well as her racing heart. Then, she put two fingers on his neck, praying she would find his pulse.

Too soft, almost imperceptible, but it was there.

Nonetheless, he seemed so lifeless. What drug could cause such an effect? She recalled the case a few months ago when she nearly cut up a lawyer who appeared to be dead but wasn't. He had been poisoned with a substance that caused him to be completely paralyzed. Could the drug the woman used on Woody be something like that?

"Why is trouble always finding me, Woody?" she murmured, caressing his cheek lovingly. "And why is it that I keep dragging you along with me?" After that, she embraced him with such emotion that she thought her chest would explode. She lifted his head one more time and promised the inert man, "I'll be back."

She silently cursed herself for what she was going to say. It wasn't the words she regretted, but the fact that she didn't have the nerve to say them while he was aware. She took the tape off of his mouth and studied him, learning all the tiny details of his face by heart. Then she whispered against his lips just a second before she kissed him.

"I love you."


	4. Looks Might Be Deceiving

_Thank you very much for your encouraging reviews._

_Wendie, thanks for all your hard work_.

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Chapter four. **Looks Might Be Deceiving.**

After the brunette injected him, Woody felt nothing unpleasant. Although he found it strange that somebody would inspect his medical condition before proceeding to kill him, he wouldn't put anything past this woman. There was no telling what she would do next. What was most peculiar to him, however, was that he felt rather happy when there was nothing in their situation to be cheerful about.

In his numbed condition, he could still observe Jordan going out of her mind, yelling at the old man, the one they had been calling 'Boss'.

Although he was having trouble staying awake, he had grasped something about a 'crime scene'. Could it be 'his' crime scene? Jordan was demanding the old man to tell her what they had injected him with. If he didn't know better, he would also say the way she was acting showed a lot more than 'friendly' concern. Then again, maybe it was just him seeing what he so desperately wanted to see. This little injection was making him feel blissful. He wasn't thinking clearly, and everything around him was fading away. Last thing he seemed to remember as 'real' was Jordan's look of concern.

Then, he was dreaming once more about Jordan. Although it wasn't an erotic dream this time, it was as oddly vivid as the last one. She was telling him something. He didn't understand what she was saying, though. He wasn't quite sure if it was because she was talking very low or because she was too far away from him. But they were certainly sweet words. He could feel her hand on his cheek, caressing him lovingly, and after that, a pretty tight hug from her.

Her heart was pounding against his chest so hard he thought it would explode. He, on the other hand, didn't feel his own heart beats, or his physical body. However, his love for her was there, the same as always, but it had taken on a new, ethereal quality.

He was in limbo. He had died and his heaven was Jordan.

However, heaven was supposed to be perfect and his was missing one little thing. And then he heard it, as loud as thunder in the silence that surrounded him in his new state of lightness. "I love you," she said in a clear, strong voice.

He struggled to answer her, to say those three words to her. "I love you," his mind uttered, though the sound couldn't escape from his mouth. Her lips on his brought him back to his body for a moment. He kissed her back, or at least he thought he did.

It _was_ heaven, and then… nothing.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Pete led Jordan through a big, open corridor of the warehouse. Even though he was holding her firmly, he was kind. A ray of moonlight found its way through the cloudy sky and shone into the building through the huge glass dome in the ceiling. This surprise lighting allowed her to inspect the young man as they were walking. He was as tall as Woody. He was also a good-looking guy and his resemblance to Mr. Green was astonishing. The only real difference was Pete's beautiful wavy brown hair. His gaze was warm and his eyes gleamed with intelligence. He certainly didn't look like a stereotypical ruffian. She wondered why this lad was helping Mr. Green, besides the fact that he was obviously related to him.

"Tell me… Pete?" Jordan was asking him if she had caught his name right. He glanced at her cautiously, as though he was pondering whether to communicate with her at all. Finally, he nodded.

"You seem like a good person, Pete. Is there any chance you could help us?" In the past, she had always been right when she had judged a person. Her intuition told her this time that this man was a potential ally. Their present situation demanded that she think fast and make quick decisions. She didn't have a lot of time to test the waters with Pete, but she was alert for any sign that he might cooperate with her, if not now, then perhaps later. She didn't have any other options. It was worth a try.

"Sorry, Dr. Cavanaugh. I'm not allowed to speak to you," Pete answered, nonchalantly.

She had failed miserably. He wasn't going to be of any help. "'You can't blame a girl for trying," she muttered to herself. The rest of the walk was spent in silent.

They came into another big room where it seemed the action was. Mr. Green greeted them at the entrance with a wide smile. Jordan found him rather confusing. At first glance, he appeared to be a noble, caring and quite handsome old man. However, on closer inspection, she discovered he was also determined, strong and rather intimidating.

"Pete," Mr. Green grabbed hold of his grandson's arm. "We have to discuss the new act you'll be performing, son." Then he turned to look at Jordan. "You'll have to excuse us, doctor. I'll be talking to you a little after this," he said, politely.

Ray had come to stand close by her side, and at his stare, Jordan felt compelled to remain still. The other two men walked away from her, stopping far enough away that she couldn't hear what they were plotting. Then, she noticed two women, the blonde who had held a gun against her and the brunette, the one that had injected Woody. Again, at first glance, they appeared harmless, but Jordan knew for a fact they were quite the opposite.

They were a deceptive group, these people who had kidnapped her and Woody. They looked like good people, yet she understood now they were capable of something dangerous. Like killing _her Woody_ if she didn't cooperate. It was a big threat they were holding against her. Had she met them all under other circumstances, the only one that would have frightened her was Hardy, the lunatic they left to guard Woody.

She was immersed in that kind of thinking, when a big noise startled her. The two women were yelling at each other.

"Debra, you promised!" the blond shrieked and slammed her glass so hard against the table where the women sat that it shattered into a million tiny pieces.

The brunette lunged from her seat, coming to stand beside Helen. She tapped the blonde's right arm expecting to calm her. "Yeah, I know I did! However, I have to cover it up after tonight, before they realize…" she tried to explain, though her partner jerked from her touch and came to her feet abruptly.

"Oh, no! You're having second thoughts about this. Say it!" Helen shouted, defiant.

"You know I wouldn't, Helen. Please, you know me better than that!" Debra retaliated, not knowing what to do exactly, since her last attempt at calming Helen achieved the opposite affect.

Helen's stance faltered, as though she were at the edge of breakdown. She took two steps backward and began to breathe heavily, like there wasn't enough air in that huge room to fill her lungs. "I don't know what to believe now. I'm lost… It's too much for me!"

Debra approached her cautiously, compelling her, "Helen… Helen. Please, calm down. It's really necessary. Pull yourself together. Make an effort, hon."

Helen didn't react to her move. She lowered her voice unexpectedly, "It's my life you're talking about." Jordan could hardly understand her last words.

Debra responded resentfully, "Well, yeah… It's my life too!"

Helen was angry and agitated again. She screamed, "But you're not coming! I have no other option and you know it. It's Brad and Lindsey." She paused a moment, then continued, "You said you would go with us and now you're saying it would be better if..." She couldn't finish whatever she was going to say. Tears flowed freely from her eyes. She took a big breath and lifted her hands to cover her face. Just when it appeared that she had gotten control of herself, she ran out of the room. Debra rushed after her with Mr. Green right behind her. The three of them disappeared down the same corridor Jordan had just come down. The clouds hid the moon again, making the large open area as dark as a cave.

Ray observed them as they vanished in the shadows and shook his head in disapproval. Then he realized that Jordan was watching him, looking to him for answers as to what had just occurred. He answered simply, "A lovers' quarrel, I guess." And he shrugged.

She frowned and looked at him, stunned. Things were getting weirder by the second. However, she was now building a new plan. With this sudden turn of events, only Pete and Ray were left to guard her, and Pete was distracted with the badge and some notes Mr. Green had given to him.

Jordan sized Ray up as a new potential ally. He seemed like a regular guy, big and robust. Not bright, but not stupid, either. He had some very recent bruises on his face, leading her to guess he wasn't afraid to use his fists.

So, which card should she play to try to get him on her side?

Seduction, she answered to herself. He seemed like a guy who would be caught by a captivating woman. She could be seductive if she really wanted to.

"So, tell me, big guy," she uttered, sugaring her voice. "Would you be so kind as to give the lady a glass of water? All the tension I've been through, you know?" She strove to lure him with charming and sweet manners, brushing her index finger along his chest, softly.

Ray caressed his sore neck and looked at her, taken aback by her actions. "Yeah, sure." He dug out a bottle of water from an inside pocket of his coat. It was half empty, and looked suspiciously turbid. Jordan couldn't hide her displeasure. He noticed it immediately and apologized, "It's all I have here." He returned the bottle back to where he had found it.

She shook her head and closed her eyes, as though she were striving to forget the muddy water, and asked him, "Is there bathroom near? I have… needs."

"I don't know," he said hesitantly. "We better wait for Helen and Debra, doctor."

"I could let you watch," she purred.

Ray tugged her to him. "You're the devil, woman," he whispered into her ear. Jordan struggled to control an involuntary and distasteful shivering, acting as though she was pleased with the way things were progressing. And she was, though it was a completely different delivery she had in mind.

So, she was absorbed in her performance, almost convinced that she had achieved what she wanted, when they heard steps approaching from the corridor. Ray let loose of her right away, coming to his senses. She silently cursed for the bad timing.

Mr. Green emerged from the shadows, striding toward her. When he reached her, he encircled her shoulders in a gentlemanly embrace. "Let's talk, doctor," he addressed her, his manner somehow both as adorable and as intimidating as it could possibly be.


	5. To be dead or not to be dead

_I've been working very hard, believe me, and I've put to work moviemom44 at my pace, so, thank you moviemom44!_

_I certainly hope you enjoy the story as much as I'm enjoying writing it._

_Wendie, I couldn't say it more beautifully._

……………………………………………………

Chapter five. **To be [dead] or not to be [dead].**

Helen ran frantically until she reached the parking lot. As big as the warehouse was, she still felt confined there. She was suffocating and struggling to get enough air to breathe. When she got outside, she doubled over, bracing herself against the front of the building with one hand for a few seconds before taking two uncertain steps onto the pavement and falling painfully to her knees, as if she had finally given up. That's how Debra found her.

The brunette knelt down by Helen's side, carefully not to invade her personal space. When she was sure that Helen's breathing was normal again, she embraced her. Helen responded to the gesture, resting her head on Debra's right shoulder. It was sweet, loving and rather sad for both of them. Mr. Green observed them from inside the building. He was pondering whether or not he should interrupt their intimate moment.

"Helen, sweetheart, I'm here. And I promise I will be with you tomorrow," Debra said, patting Helen's long blonde hair protectively.

Helen sighed dejectedly, lifting her head to watch at her. Debra's eyes were dark brown, and beautifully shaped. Emotions, memories and ideas burned in those eyes. Helen admired them for a moment, and then she uttered very softly, "I got you into this madness. You'll be ruined… your career, your position… everything you've worked for will come apart…" She began shedding tears again helplessly. The last thing she said came out in pieces, between labored breaths, "I'm sorry… for… that."

"Oh, no! Honey, I'm here because I want to… because I love you… because I love Brad and Lindsey… because there's no other place I'd rather be. We'll beat it together. We'll start it all over again. My career, the things I have now are expendable. I can recover," Debra replied, determinedly. She looked at her in a loving, powerful way. She grabbed hold of Helen's hand and squeezed it tight, hoping to transfer some of her own inner strength to her troubled lover.

Helen blinked and stared at her blankly. A thick film of tears obstructed her vision. She lifted her free hand to her eyes and dried them off. Then she said it, the thought that was weighing on her like a mountain on top of her shoulders, "But you know… I mean, if I had to kill him, I would do it without hesitation. I have to get rid of him, whatever it takes." She shook her head and bit her upper lip nervously. Her look turned anxious and vulnerable. She continued, her voice was faltering, "If that happens… I would understand if you… I mean, if you don't…"

Debra lifted her index finger to her mouth, shushing her. "I'll be there. I made Brad and Lindsey a promise I don't want to dishonor. I'm making the same promise to you right now. I love you, Helen."

That was the last thing Mr. Green heard as he turned his back to them. They had solved their own problems. It wasn't necessary for him to intervene. He had a better place to be right now. He walked into the darkness in search of the female coroner they had kidnapped. He needed to let her know what her assignment in their plan was.

"Let's talk, doctor," he addressed Jordan when he found her talking to Ray.

As he led her with him, he glared at the bearded man over his shoulder with a warning gesture. Ray noticed the silent scolding, and felt like a little kid caught doing something he shouldn't. He averted his gaze and scratched his sore neck so hard it turned red.

Mr. Green offered Jordan a seat at the table where the remains of the shattered glass still laid. Using a handkerchief he dug out of his pocket, he cleared the pieces away, pushing them to the floor. The hankie was old fashioned, handmade, and Jordan didn't miss the letters 'J.W.' embroidered on the material.

Jordan watched while he dealt with the broken glass. There was a folder on the table. He removed a paper from the folder, sat in the chair next to her and handed her the paper as he explained, "Here are your instructions, dear. Please read them carefully and if you have any questions, I'll be happy to answer them for you."

Jordan grabbed the paper and inspected it, thoroughly but rapidly, not wanting her captor to realize what she was doing. She wasn't just reading the instructions. She was also memorizing details about the paper itself, mentally collecting information like she would collect evidence at a crime scene. In a way, this _was_ a crime scene, although the crime hadn't been committed yet, or so she thought. Glancing at the folder, she realized it probably held the instructions for the whole group, making it a treasure trove of evidence, too.

Her instructions were typed and printed by a laser printer on clean, white paper. Well, clean except for the fingerprints Mr. Green had just left on it. When she had gathered all the information she could, she read the instructions themselves.

The instructions were puzzling, surely written by a lunatic. Nothing made sense to her. She glanced at the old man and asked him, "When it says 'There will be three un-dead bodies', what do you mean exactly?"

Mr. Green replied rather calmly, "Exactly what it says. There will be three bodies that won't be dead. But we need you to declare them as dead as they will appear. I must warn you, my dear doctor, the scene would probably be somewhat outrageous, exaggerated, if you want, but completely believable, the same as your boyfriend was. Didn't you think he was dead? I mean, weren't you confused? Absolutely fantastic, don't you think?" As he spoke, his relaxed manner transformed to excitation and unbridled joy.

Oh dear! So, they were going to give these people the same treatment that they gave to Woody? And what was this wacko so proud and happy for? Was he making fun of her concern for Woody? Did he think it was funny that she had initially believed Woody was dead? She felt a sudden wave of anger mixed with nausea in the pit of her stomach. She found it really hard to control it. She didn't have much experience holding back her feelings. On any other day she would have snapped at him for his depraved outburst of delight, but instead she held her rage by clenching her teeth and glaring at him silently. Struggling to hold herself together, she continued her task.

A freaking riddle! That was what the instructions looked like. There were a lot of things she didn't quite understand. "And when it says, 'Another man may or may not be dead, depending on the outcome of a previous situation'?" she queried, putting her index finger on the line she quoted and raising her eyebrows questioningly at the old man.

"This is simple, dear. We want you to declare him as you find him. Dead if he's dead, and not dead if he's not," he answered, indifferent.

"Are you going to kill him?" she spat out, incredulously.

Mr. Green was still emotionless when he replied, "Oh, not me. Helen, maybe."

Jordan's disbelief was written all over her face. "So, you're telling me that there will be three un-dead bodies, and a _possibly-_dead body? How am I gonna recognize which bodies are the ones you want me to declare dead, though they aren't?" She was still trying to understand.

"There will be just one man, dear." His reply was straight and simple, not giving away more than he considered necessary.

"Why do you want me to declare these people dead? And how am I supposed to do it with other people around, people I know and who know me, like cops and friends from the coroner's office? They'll know something is wrong right away. I need more information if I'm going to help you." There had to be something more she could dig out from this madman. The plan was absolutely crazy.

"You won't need anything more, believe me. I have it all worked out. Pete will be a fancy new detective, he'll be helping you. Another new detective you haven't worked with much will be there, too. There won't be any other coroners there; you are the night watch, aren't you? And as for Dr. Townsend, I've made sure he won't appear."

Jordan threw him a shocked expression. What had this nut done to Nigel?

"Don't worry, he's alright. I have no intention of hurting you or anyone else unless I'm given a reason," Mr. Green continued. Lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, he added, "I have to confess a little sin, dear. Dr. Townsend has been sent to another fake crime scene with a pretty blonde medical examiner by his side. Right now, he's stranded in the middle of nowhere between Boston and New York." Returning to his normal voice, he changed the subject. "I told you, doctor, the less you know, the better for you...and for your boyfriend. We need you to do exactly as I have asked. If you do, your handsome detective will be having sweet dreams while we work. If you don't...well, he may become another possibly-dead man. But really, dear, I don't like making unnecessary threats."

The menace hit her like a punch in the gut. He certainly knew her Achilles heel, and he also knew a lot more about her and the people she worked with than he had let on. She lowered her head, struggling to absorb this whole new information, when Mr. Green placed a finger on an earpiece in his left ear to answer a call. "Yes, Drew. I'm listening," he said.

She watched as his kind, relaxed attitude transformed into the intimidating determination he had revealed to her before.

"OK, I'll be waiting for your signal," Mr. Green replied to the one that was in the other end of the radio. Then, he stood abruptly and barked to his accomplices, "We're leaving now!" He walked toward the exit, compelling Jordan with a firm gaze to follow him. "Come with me," he ordered her. She did as he told her, snatching her instructions from the table as she went.

They ran through the same corridor she had come down before. On their way out, they passed the entrance to the hall where Woody was when Jordan last saw him. She peered into the darkness, worried, wishing she could get a glimpse of him to see if he was alright. Pete's firm grip drew her away. Although she knew that to save her beloved man she had to go along with these people and their hideous plan, she was filled with a desperate longing to stay with Woody. Her last image of him, unconscious, tied to a chair, was engraved in her heart.

Pete kept pulling her down the exit, until she started to walk under her own power.

When they arrived at the parking lot, Helen and Debra were sitting on the ground, talking quietly. Mr. Green stared impassively at Helen as he called to her, "It's now or never. Hurry up!"

Both women jumped to their feet, adrenaline running through their bodies.

Four vehicles were parked in the lot. Ray climbed in the morgue van. Debra and Helen took the white, old Honda.

While he opened the Chrysler 300's back door for her, Mr. Green told Jordan, "Be my guest, doctor." He climbed in the car after her. Pete took the driver's seat, as he had done before. The only car left behind was the black Aspen SUV.

The three cars sped toward the road and disappeared into the night.


	6. Reality is a bitch

Chapter six. **Reality is a bitch.**

As soon as they climbed into the car, Mr. Green apologized to Jordan, "Sorry, dear. We can't have you remembering the path we're taking." When he said that, he covered her whole head with a knitted mask. It didn't have any eye holes on it, so, she couldn't see anything, though she still could hear what was going on. Music was playing during the entire ride. All the songs were from the Sixties and Seventies. Jordan recognized a few of them. Then she realized she could use the music to time the ride by counting how many songs it took to get from one stop or turn to the next. She also tried to keep track of which direction they turned, right or left, and how many times they stopped long enough to be waiting for a red light to turn green.

From time to time, Mr. Green spoke, mostly to give orders or to answer someone who must have been speaking to him through his earpiece. Although none of it made sense to her, she still tried to memorize every word as well as any other noises she heard so that she would be able to build the puzzle again when the time came. It was exhausting, but it was the only thing she could do.

Thirty minutes had passed when they stopped, and remained still for longer than a light change. Jordan guessed that they had arrived at their destination. As the music continued to play, Jordan realized she must be listening to an MP3 player rather than a radio, because she hadn't heard any commercials or commentary from a DJ. Apparently, Mr. Green had chosen a list of 'golden oldies' for his entertainment.

They spent two more hours parked in that place, or so she guessed because she was having trouble staying awake. Fatigue was already taking its toll on her. However, as tired as she was, she still forced herself to continue mentally collecting anything that might be valuable as evidence in _their_ case.

Suddenly, something happened that distracted her from her mission. She heard one particular song--that song-- that had left a deep mark on her soul. As the melodic strains of 'Tired of Waiting for You' filled the car, Jordan was swept back in time, dragged across the miles, to a hillside in California. Her heart hammered in her chest as the daydream overtook her.

They had been so close, that time in L.A. She remembered what Woody had said to her back then perfectly; it was as if she was hearing it now.

_"Maybe you just need someone to...hold you a little tighter."_

_She could feel his strong arms around her waist, his warm breath against her face. She could see his deep, blue, amazing eyes, so close, so bright. The warm breeze drifted around their bodies, played with her hair. Her heart was racing in her chest._

_What was she so afraid of? Woody had always understood her, always been there for her. She had disappointed him a million times and he was still willing to be with her. The __path of tragedies that filled her life __had been like a trail of broken limbs__ --her mother, her father, her brother, her job in L.A., even Devan, JD and Lu-- and it didn't seem to phase him._

_She had given in once--remember Littleton Village?--and let him get too close, let him wrap her in all that strength. But she had run away again. Or had it been Woody that time?_

_How many more chances would she have with him? She had already wasted so much time, so many opportunities, so much love. Would she ever grow up enough to tell him how much he meant to her? She had finally admitted it to herself, even said __'the words' to him tonight, but he hadn't been aware, so did it really count? What if Woody died at the hands of that lunatic watching over him? Was she prepared to add her own heart to the trail of broken limbs she was leaving behind? One more tragedy in her life, and she could end completely cut up._

_God, how she needed him! She heard the words again._

_"Maybe you just need someone to... hold you a little tighter."_

_He was so close now, his face coming even closer, their lips almost touching. He was about to kiss her and she was letting it happen..._

The song suddenly stopped and her beautiful memory vanished with it.

Damn! She had fallen asleep and was dreaming. It was the hideous voice of her captor that broke her back to reality.

"It's our turn now, doctor," he said excitedly.

He took the mask off her head and as she looked into his cold eyes, her dream of Woody's almost-kiss disappeared and was replaced by an image of him tied to a chair, unconscious.

Reality was a bitch.


	7. Gruesome grotesque sickening fake hell

_**A/N**__.- The chapter's title says it all, so please forgive me if it is too much for you. The story demands it. _

_Thank you Wendie, your observations were highly useful._

Chapter seven. **Gruesome, grotesque, sickening, fake, hell**.

From the spot where Mr. Green took the mask off of her head, and as they drove down Commonwealth Avenue, getting closer to Arlington St, Jordan recognized Back Bay, at the west side of the Public Garden. She had always been amazed with the mix of big luxury and history this side of the city had. It certainly was one of the wealthiest neighborhoods of Boston, and probably of the country, home of local and national politicians.

Big city lights blinding people to what really mattered, if anyone would have asked her.

She was wondering if one of these high class people was the target of Mr. Green and his team.

They finally reached a classic Victorian residence. Police had secured the whole area, and it was, as she had feared, a high profile crime.

She sat inside Mr. Green's car and watched out the window as Detective Elliot Chandler got out of his car and went into the house. So he was the 'unfamiliar' detective she would be working with. The only time she had worked with him, she certainly hadn't been her real self. She had come back to work from her brain surgery's recovering two weeks earlier than she was supposed to, trying to change everything about herself. She had been nice, had cooked some nasty-taste cookies for everybody, she freaking-feng-chui-changed her office, and she wore a black onyx necklace to somehow 'restore her inner balance'. However, she hadn't even been back yet twelve hours, when she had already attacked a homeless man. The case had made her snap, turning her into the 'pushy, difficult, angry, and cynical woman' she really was.

This second time didn't add any good points to his appreciation of her persona, if she was going to help these criminals, and she stared at Mr. Green as she was reflecting it. She certainly wouldn't have cared in a normal situation, but this situation wasn't normal at all. Mr. Green had selected the only person she wouldn't be able to communicate with if she really wanted to. However, the old man had warned her enough about the consequences of not doing as she was told with this assignment, so she had given up trying to find a way out of it. She wasn't about to endanger Woody, not for anything.

The moment had come for her to play her role, and she knew it.

"You know what to do, Dr. Cavanaugh. This is simple. If there is something you can't handle, go to Pete for direction. You'll come with us after this, in the morgue van with the bodies. And when everything ends, you and your boyfriend will be set free at a convenient hour and place. You see? Simple. See you later, dear." Those were the words Mr. Green said to her as Pete was opening the car's door for her.

She took a big breath, nodded, and got out of the car. Pete handed her the medical bag she used for gathering evidence in a crime scene, and then he escorted her into the house. He was wearing Woody's badge on his chest, hanging from a cord, as she had seen Woody wearing it a million times before. Pete's characterization of a police officer came natural to him. It was as if he had done it forever. When he and Jordan caught up with Chandler in the foyer of the house, Pete introduced himself as 'Detective William Hoover, transferred to the BPD from Worchester last week.'

Jordan greeted the detective with a monosyllabic, "Hey." She was struggling to keep her acting as low profile as she could.

"Hello Jordan," he answered. "You're not using any onyx stone today?"

She shook her head and shrugged. "It wasn't for me."

"I hope it doesn't mean you're ready to kick somebody's ass, like the last time we met," he warned her.

Oh! He couldn't possibly appreciate all the sarcasm implied in those words. If somebody's ass was going to be kicked tonight, it was hers. Jordan frowned at him, took a deep breath and opened her mouth to say something, but then realized she didn't know what to say. She ended up looking at him with a mixture of confusion and embarrassment.

Detective Chandler dismissed the conversation, getting into business. "These are high upper class casualties we have now, and people from the press will be arriving pretty soon. This is about to become a circus if we don't hurry up." He beckoned to them to follow him upstairs, so they did.

"You mean, there is more than one body?" she asked him, as if she was clarifying the point. She already knew it.

Detective Chandler sighed. "Two children and their mother. Pretty gruesome. The father killed them all and then, it seems he attempted to commit suicide. He was grabbing the gun when we found him. He missed. Paramedics are with him already," he replied wearily. "I really don't get used to these kinds of things. Your family should be what you want to _protect_ with your life, not this," he added.

"Do we have any witnesses?" Pete asked him, as they walked through the corridor that led to the bedrooms.

"Yes, 'the girlfriend'," Elliot said, pointing at someone in front of them. "She was the one who called 911."

Jordan's heart sank, imaging that said 'girlfriend' would be Debra, but instead she saw a beautiful blonde woman crying miserably as she sat on a chair at the front of the room. A police officer stood next to her. Jordan wondered whose girlfriend she was supposed to be.

When they reached the witness, Elliot addressed Pete, "You handle the bodies, with Dr. Cavanaugh. I'll question the witness and escort the husband to the hospital. You have to be very careful. It's Senator Bloom we're talking about."

In that moment, the paramedics were wheeling the Senator out of the room. He was on a stretcher, unconscious, shot in the chest. A uniformed cop came out of the room too, and he handed a bag with a gun inside to Elliot. The detective took the bag and nodded to the officer.

"I have to go now," Elliot informed them. "Jordan, please test her for gun shot residue before my men take her to the station," he requested, tilting his head toward the blonde as he hustled along with the paramedics. He suddenly turned to face them and barked an order at them as he walked, "Ah! And don't talk to the press about anything!"

Jordan made a sarcastic military salute with her hand. "At your command, sir." Detective Chandler didn't hear her last comment, as he was already gone, but Pete did. He stared at her with a warning look.

"Sorry," she spat out and glared at him. "I forgot to tell you I don't follow orders very well. But I'll behave, I promise." And she focused on the witness.

Pete went into the room to 'collect evidence', along with the CSU people --they were already there doing their job--, while Jordan was testing the blonde for traces of gunpowder on her hands. She examined her scrupulously, her mind running at lightspeed, trying to figure out which piece of the puzzle this woman was. She certainly had to be in collusion with Mr. Green's band.

When she thought nobody was paying attention, she asked the blonde, "Relax, hon. Could you tell me what happened here?" Jordan observed the woman's eyes with a penetrating gaze, alert for any signs of deception.

The blonde didn't seem to acknowledge Jordan's presence, let alone her touch during the GSR test or her question. She continued to cry and then glanced at Jordan sadly. "He...he killed them. He killed them all!" she answered with difficulty, struggling to get the words out as she cried.

If she was acting, she was doing amazingly well. Or she could have been telling the truth. Jordan didn't know.

Pete poked his head through the door and compelled Jordan to come with him into the room with a head movement. She collected her things and prepared to walk. It was then when she saw it. For a millisecond, a looked passed between the false detective and the 'witness'. It was so fleeting that she wondered if she might have imagined it after all.

Two police officers accompanied the blonde to the exit, and Jordan gave the sample she had taken from her to one CSU as they were leaving too. The evidence would arrive at its destination at the same time that the witness, but she already knew she hadn't pulled a trigger.

Jordan finally joined Pete in what was obviously a girl's room. It was fairly large and decorated in pastel colors. The sight was horrible, a slaughtering. There was blood spread everywhere.

The first body she saw was Helen's, lying on the floor, motionless, all covered in blood and bruises. Although her eyes were closed, her face showed the pain and agony she must have felt when she came upon the horrid scene.

There was a huge bed at the center of the room. On it she saw a child, a little girl around eight, also covered in blood. She was so still. If she hadn't known otherwise, she would have believed that mother and daughter were as dead as they appeared, and it was sickening.

The third body was a boy, around six, resting on his front over the floor, one little arm trying to reach the next room that turned out to be the bathroom. It seemed like an unsuccessful escape. He was also all covered with the nasty red substance. Jordan felt nauseous. This was going to be one of the most difficult crime scenes she had worked, ever. Even with her highly trained eyes, it was almost impossible to tell what was real and what wasn't just by looking, but Jordan knew it was all fabricated. At least, that was what she had been told.

She knelt down beside Helen's body and examined her. She was cold and didn't seem to have a pulse. On closer inspection, Jordan discovered recent bruises beneath Helen's blouse that were not part of the simulation. They were surely the result of a fight and seemed to be defensive injuries. She also found a lesion that appeared to be a bullet wound. She discovered that this last damage was not real, but it looked just like a freshly opened hole in her flesh. It was a remarkable imitation of a bullet entry wound. So, that was how they wanted everyone to believe she was killed, with a gun. She was making her 'observations' out loud for Pete –at least the ones that had to do with the simulation-, the same as she would have done if he were a 'real' detective.

After Jordan finished with Helen, Ray and a uniformed cop came in with a stretcher and lifted the body onto it. As they rolled the stretcher away, Jordan avoided making eye contact with Ray. A couple of uniformed cops were guarding the room's entrance, and she didn't want to risk destroying the illusion.

She continued with the girl. She looked so delicate and so beautiful, and her skin still smelled like she had just come from an orange-scented bubble bath.

The little girl was wearing a pink nightgown, so it was possible to appreciate her legs. This child also showed dark bruises on her body. It was strange that her face was untouched, no sign of a hit or anything. Lifting her nightgown to examine her abdomen, Jordan froze. What she saw couldn't possibly be made up. There were nasty, old bruises between her legs. Jordan breathed heavily and gulped. She made a closer inspection beneath her underpants, and she discovered a disgusting gash.

The little girl had been raped.

She struggled to keep her emotions at bay, not knowing exactly how to react.

Pete glanced at her worriedly, expectant. He seemed to know what Jordan was dealing with.

Jordan's hands were trembling, unwilling to obey her unspoken commands for them to be still. Who the hell was responsible for this?!? She managed to take the rape kit out of the medical bag and lift some samples from the little girl. Her voice came calmed when she announced her discovery, so Pete knew she had controlled herself.

Jordan hated being forced to be a part of all this, but she thought she was beginning to understand why Helen was doing it.

She also found a very well-faked bullet wound on the girl's chest. So, she declared her another victim of an angry father, victimized by a gun. Ray and the cop came with the stretcher and took the little body off from their view.

She went to examine the last body. She gently touched the child's neck, striving to find a pulse. Just like when she found it on Woody, and on Helen and her daughter, the pulse was there, but almost imperceptible. Anyone else wouldn't have found it at all. Had it not been for her previous experiences, she might not have found it either.

She lifted up his pajamas to take a look on his little body. The boy had lambs on his pajamas, just like the ones she had on hers at home. She caressed his soft skin while she observed him. The same pattern of old, real contusions was on the little boy's body, and none on the face. The bogus bullet wound was there too, on his back.

She was having trouble remaining unmoved; the implications were overwhelming. Her heart couldn't take it anymore. An embarrassing tear escaped from her right eye, and she dried it off as rapidly as she could with the back of her hand.

Ray and the cop came with the stretcher for the last time. Her only wish now was to escape the house without having to face the reporters. Pete helped her gather her things and then led her gently but firmly to the front door. The reporters were there, as she had feared, hurling questions one after the other. Spotlights illuminated the entrance to the house. Pete shielded her with his own body and escorted her to the morgue van. He opened the door for her and when she was secured in her seat, Ray started the engine. As they drove away, Jordan felt like she'd escaped from hell, or at least the closest thing to hell she had ever seen.

Her part in the façade was done. She was going to meet Woody, and they were going to be OK.

So why did she feel so awful?


	8. Is Stockholm Syndrome a side effect?

Chapter eight. **Is Stockholm ****S****yndrome a side effect?**

A nasty heaviness enveloped Woody's whole body. His head was pounding. He swore it felt almost as if he was under the church bell and it was clanging. His mouth had a bad taste; his saliva was thick and sticky. He was trying to open his eyes, but his eyelids didn't want to cooperate. He struggled to lift his right arm in order to restrain his head from hurting, but he couldn't. The problem wasn't only that his arm felt like a lead weight, it was also chained to something. Anxiety overcame him. What was happening to him?

He wrestled to remember where he was. It didn't seem like his bed at home. He realized he was sitting on a chair. Then he felt the ropes around his wrists and all over his legs. They were hurting him. His blood circulation had been cut off, and it was painful. He couldn't move from the chair, and then he recognized that he was tied to that chair. He still didn't remember anything, until an image flashed into his mind.

Jordan's troubled eyes.

It all came to him at once --the car crash, the ride in the back of the morgue van, Jordan shouting at somebody, the injection… his weird dream of heaven—it was like freezing water washing his entire body, as if he had been trapped under water, in a lake or something, and suddenly had reached the surface. He gasped for air and could finally open his eyes.

The lights blinded him, until he adjusted to them. When he could focus, he saw a man in front of him sitting in a chair. His legs were propped up on a table and the chair was tilted back at a dangerous angle with only its back legs touching the floor. The man wasn't paying any attention to Woody. He was playing with his cell or something. Woody also saw a gun on the table at arm's length from this man.

His throbbing head was becoming so unbearable that he almost wanted to shout. However, he was struggling to hold on the pain. He didn't want to draw the man's attention to him, so he could evaluate his situation and guess how to get out of there.

First of all, Jordan wasn't there. He needed to locate her before he made a move.

The cold he was sensing now was making the sting on his arms and legs disappear. They were numbed. However, his head was exploding, or so he felt. He couldn't control it anymore and began to groan, louder as the pain grew. Everything around him became blurred.

Time collapsed in his mind. He didn't know how long it had been when the pain started to diminish. When the worst of the torture seemed to be over, he opened his eyes again and saw a woman examining him, the same woman that had injected him before. She was pulling on his lower eyelid while she illuminated his eye with a medical pen flashlight. It blinded him for a second.

He must have reacted to the light because she asked him, "Are you back with us?"

He struggled to answer, but his tongue was swollen and the sounds he was making didn't seem to form a comprehensible word.

"Sorry," she apologized, though she still continued with her task. "Yeah, I know. The secondary effects are terrible," she said. "You should be feeling better in few moments. " She smiled at him, lowering the light.

She was too gentle, and yet she had attacked him with that substance that was causing him a lot of pain.

"But, you'll need this to compensate the nasty side effects." She had pulled a syringe and a bottle out from the medical bag that was at her side and prepared a shot with the yellowish, transparent liquid that filled the bottle.

"What's that?" He slurred, looking at her helplessly.

She still had a kind stance when she answered him, "The antidote, it'll help you to return to normal." She injected him on the arm. "I haven't had time to adjust your dose, so I don't know how long it'll be for your body to react. But don't worry. The pain will go away eventually." She sat in a chair next to him and continued to watch him for any signs of recovery.

If she was telling the truth, he didn't know. However, his body's temperature began to rise, so he was feeling again the sting on his legs and arms. "It still hurts," he uttered, and this time the words didn't slip on his tongue although it was difficult for him to talk.

"What is it? Your head?" she asked him, concerned, taking his temperature with a thermometer in his ear.

His head wasn't hurting that badly now. The loud, noisy reverberation had taken on a low whistle. "No, my legs and arms," he answered.

She recognized that the ropes were tied too tight, and that he was having trouble with it. "Sorry about that. Nothing in my medical kit will help with that, but maybe Mr. Hardy can." Turning to the man in the tilting chair, she asked, "Hardy, could you loosen the ties?"

Diverted from his game, Hardy shot an unsettled glance at her. The movement was the last straw for the chair, which clattered to the floor, dumping the big man onto his backside. He hurriedly got to his feet, snatched up the game and looked at the screen.

"Oh, no, no, I'm dead!" he cried out. His game over, he focused on Debra with a confused look.

She tilted her head to Woody, as she raised her eyebrows. The man blinked and still didn't understand what she needed him to do.

"Loosen the ties?" she repeated, like she was talking to a little kid.

"I don't know, doctor. I'd rather wait for Mr. Green," he replied, reluctant to make any changes without his boss's approval.

"Just a little, man. He's still sedated. He can't move," she insisted, beckoning him to approach.

"OK. It's on you, doctor." Hardy unfastened the cord. However, the detective was still secured. Then, the man returned to his chair, lifting it from the floor, and continued playing his game after that, unmindful of what Woody and the woman were doing.

"Better now?" She grinned at Woody. Her voice was warm and soft.

He was still dealing with the cold and the numbness throughout his body, but it certainly had diminished. His mouth and tongue prickled. He realized that he couldn't move yet and his head's weight over his shoulders was huge. However, a warm, comforting feeling washed him like waves coming and going all over him. "Yes," he replied. "That thing you first gave me, what was it? It's horrible."

She glanced at him, tenderly, analyzing what her answer should be. After a moment passed, she sighed, and finally said, "It's classified, Detective. The only thing I can tell you is that is safer enough to give it to children. It certainly does have disgusting side effects; I proved that on myself. That's why I gave you the second shot. Without it, it gets worse."

"So, what are you? Sort kind of malevolent and crazy scientist?" He was really intrigued about this woman. She was kind and caring, and yet, she was helping the delinquents that had abducted him and Jordan. She didn't quite fit into the antisocial profile.

She chuckled and frowned, somehow amused by his question. "Oh, nothing like that!" She looked at him for a moment, and then she looked at the ground, as if she were ashamed. "I'm just a regular doctor. A pediatrician," she uttered sadly. "And soon I'll be nothing," she added. She lifted her face to look at him again; her eyes had a melancholy shine. "But on the bright side, I'm gaining a family."

'At least she doesn't think I'm an alien,' he thought, remembering the last time he had been held captive, tied to a chair. "Where is Jordan?" he asked. His urge to see her was growing as he was feeling better.

"She'll be here later on, don't worry. She's alright," she replied. She glanced at him worriedly. Something really big was bothering her, so she continued, "Sorry about this, I know it isn't right for you. You didn't do anything to us. But we needed you. We still…" She shook her head and messed with her hair, combing it with her hands, in despair.

He was confused. Why was this woman apologizing? They had had the nerve to abduct them, and he didn't know what they had done to Jordan. He wasn't about to give in just because she was being nice to him. She still was a criminal. He stared at her, puzzled.

"Your girlfriend… she loves you very much," she declared unexpectedly.

"She isn't… Why do you say that?" He was about to explain to her that Jordan wasn't his girlfriend, but she had said something infinitely more relevant.

"I know what love looks like, Woody," she rejoined.

"You know me?" He was surprised to hear his name coming from her. She had called him 'detective' before, and it was kind of expected, as they had surely found his badge and his gun. However, he was now suspecting it hadn't been a random kidnapping. They needed them, or so she had said. But did she mean _them_ specifically?

"No, I mean, it's just that she called you…" She tried to explain, though it seemed unimportant at that point, so she became silent and thoughtful.

"Have you ever been in a situation where a cataclysmic force leads you? Have you ever done something unthinkable for love?" she questioned him suddenly.

"What? I don't know what…" This conversation was becoming weirder by the second. The feeling that this woman knew him was getting stronger.

"I just shot a man…" she added, oblivious to his confusion. "I'm giving up everything for her. My career, my life… I don't know if she really loves me, or if I am something strong she is desperately clinging to so she can survive. Even so, I wouldn't hesitate if I had to do it again."

He breathed; he didn't even acknowledge he had been holding it. He realized that she wasn't talking about him, but about _her_ lover, _her_ situation.

What about that for an irony?

"Is she, the woman you are in love with, the reason I'm here like this?" he inquired.

She just nodded.

"Well, I've done a lot of crazy things for love. I've risked everything for her, my career included. Not once but many times. I even shot a man, just like you, although it was self-defense. Well, _her_ defense, really," he confessed, his voice filled with warmth as he spoke. He realized he was beginning to sympathize with this woman and he wondered if he really felt that way or if he was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome.

"When I left, he was still alive, but I wish he wasn't. Oh, God, forgive me! I hope he rots in hell!" The memory infuriated her. She needed to vent about the horrid events of the day, so she continued, "His sordid game with his new _girlfriend_ was ruined, and he was so angry at Helen because she had dared to confront him. When he first hit her, she dropped the gun. He was beating her to death! I couldn't stand it anymore, so I took the gun. He was so drunk he didn't even notice me aiming the gun at him. Drew wanted me out of it, but I couldn't control myself. Helen was shouting in pain. I shot him. He deserved it...Then I had to inject her and the children; it was horrible!" Her fury turned to remorse as she uttered something else, as though she were thinking out loud, "I put Drew in lots of trouble. I hope she knows what she's doing."

Woody was shocked. He didn't understand anything this woman was talking about, let alone the reason they needed him or Jordan.

In that moment, the woman lifted her hand to her left ear and changed her demeanor completely. She simply said, "They're coming." A wide smile was on her face.

.........................

**_A/N_**_.- I just wanted to clarify that I made up the substances I mention in this story. I don't know if there's a substance with such 'death appearence' effect or anything like that. However, a good science fiction statement says, 'it doesn't have to be the true, it just needs to seem as it is so.' So, the so called 'side effects' are also an outcome of my twisted imagination._

_ I hope you enjoyed it! The next chapter will be up pretty soo_n


	9. Doing the right thing

Chapter nine. **Doing the right thing**.

Jordan needed some answers immediately. The way things had developed hadn't been how she expected them to go. She wasn't prepared for the nastiness she had discovered.

What was going on with that family?

She wasn't fond of Senator Bloom, but it wasn't because of anything she knew about his personal life. It was because of the radical pose he always showed, his intolerance, his disrespect for minorities--gay people included. He had a glamorous reputation as a fighter with a _firm hand_ against delinquency. One of his more applauded political slogans was 'the sacred duty to protect the family'. It only confirmed one of the things she had always believed strongly --There's nothing worse than a hypocrite.

That man had been abusing his children. That was the only way to explain Helen's desperate need to disappear from his sight by staging their deaths. And framing him for murdering his own family was just a collateral benefit. Sometimes, the machinery of legal issues and _doing the right thing_ weren't the same. The Senator must have had legal immunity, given his status, and it was probably the reason Helen thought this was the only way to get away from him.

It had always been a problem for Jordan to bring her feelings and her urge for justice under control. She struggled for some minutes to regain her composure. The nausea she had been feeling in the pit of her stomach had been replaced with rising anger. She still needed some answers… right away.

"Tell me," she demanded, looking at Ray. "Did you all know about this? About the rape and the abuse? Who the hell did that? Was it Senator Bloom?" Her voice trembled with fury.

Ray turned his attention from the road, and glanced at her from his place behind the wheel. "I'm not supposed to be talking to you, doctor. Mr. Green made me swear…"

She interrupted him abruptly. "Who is this Mr. Green, anyway? What does he get out of all this?" She didn't know who to be mad at. She had been led to believe that she had been forced to help some criminals, and if she had previously known about Helen's real situation, she might have helped them without the menacing. Mr. Green had intimidated her with Woody's life, her most precious treasure, and it infuriated her to no end. Had it been _true _at some point? Did he really mean the threat?

She needed to rip off some heads, and Mr. Green's was becoming so appealing.

"He's listening to us right now, doctor. I can't tell you anything. You'll have to wait for him to explain whatever you want to know," Ray replied, brusquely. "By the way," he added, handing her the same knitted mask she had worn before. "You need to put this on, doctor."

"What for?" she objected, irritated.

"Excuse me, but you are still a hostage," he reminded her, sarcastically.

She pulled the mask away from him violently, and put it on her head. She wasn't holding her anger very well; she was clenching her teeth and breathing heavily. Then, she punched the van's door. The rest of the journey was spent in silence.

Jordan was trying to contain her anger and her confusion about all that had happened to her and Woody over the last several hours. Her nerves were shot from all the anxiety she'd been feeling since she left him.

She had been really upset when she thought he was dead. At that time, she really thought it was probable that she wouldn't see him alive ever again, and then she realized how much she needed Woody to know how she felt about him. It had been horribly distressing that he hadn't been aware when she said _the words_ to him.

Oh God! What if he heard her, but he didn't feel the same way about her? How embarrassing! Damn Mr. Green! He had put her in a terrible predicament!

Although, on a second thought, she didn't know for sure they were truly out of danger with these people. These last hours had been like one bad situation after another.

She was also mad because nobody had warned her about the horrid scene she was walking into. But now she knew the real ugly truth, that the whole set up was a desperate act of survival. That poor little girl...

It went that way for her the entire journey. Jordan's mind was overloaded and her heart was all messy. After about half an hour, she realized they had arrived at their destination. Ray confirmed it by asking her to take off the mask. She did so, climbing immediately out of the morgue van and searching frantically for Mr. Green.

They were in the deserted parking lot of the warehouse where they had left Woody. Pete and Mr. Green were just pulling in. When the old man came out of his car, Jordan strode determinedly toward him and confronted him. "You knew!" she yelled, menacingly. "Who are you, really? Why didn't you warn me? Did you mean anything you told me?" She barked question after question, not giving a chance for the man to respond to her, until she had to gasp for air.

"Relax, Dr. Cavanaugh," he said calmly. "It was for your own benefit." He paused and lifted his index finger in front of him to accentuate his next words. "I told you I don't want to make unnecessary threats. However, I have to remind you that I haven't brought you, or Detective Hoyt, as our guests… And, we still need you."

"What?!? You said you were gonna let us free after this." she protested, angrily, still struggling to control herself.

"Let me explain it to you while we take our precious cargo inside the warehouse, dear doctor." He showed her the back of the morgue van while Pete opened the doors, and the bagged bodies of Helen and her children came in their view.

Pete and Ray wheeled one of the children into the building while Mr. Green led Jordan gently but firmly by the arm in the same direction. Mr. Green seemed to have changed since Jordan last saw him. Gone was the menacing criminal. The man before her now was more gallant, as polite and courteous as he could be. "We can't let you free at this point, dear. You see? Your people haven't noticed yet they're missing a beautiful coroner, and one morgue van with three high profile bodies in it. We need it to remain that way until my granddaughter has given her statement, so we can disappear. That's all you need to know for the moment."

"You mean… the witness is your…?" she was incredulous. This madman was risking his own family in this enterprise. A strange feeling about the true identity of this man started to bug her.

"Remarkable, isn't she? I'm very proud of Pete and Drew," he stated, glancing affectionately at his grandson. Then he turned to face her. "We'll keep you and your boyfriend apart from your colleagues until it is convenient for us. We are still _your captors_, and you were _forced _to do as you did. End of the story." He finished it with a knowing look.

So, that was the deal. She was asked to act as a prisoner though she didn't feel threatened anymore. She nodded at him. She had understood the implication of his game. However, something was still disturbing her. "OK, but… they need to know what Bloom did to his family. It isn't fair. He could end up unpunished if we don't fight…"

"Don't worry about that, dear. He'll get what he deserves," he reassured her. "I mean, if he doesn't die first," he added, resignedly.

They walked all the way down the corridor that led to the room where Woody was held captive as they were talking. Jordan had been so frightened about his condition, and although she knew now that they had never been in danger, her heart skipped a beat when she saw him. He was still tied to the chair, but he was conscious. It was fabulous to see him alive after all.

"Jordan!" he shouted in recognition. His features gleamed with joy at the sight of her.

Freeing herself from Mr. Green's hold, she ran toward him and asked, "Are you OK?" When she reached him, she brushed his cheek with her fingers, lovingly.

Woody examined her carefully, making sure she was fine. "Yes. I was just discussing my condition with Dr. Frankenstein." He tilted his head to Debra, to clarify whom he was talking about. The brunette had risen from the chair she was sitting on. She smiled sadly at them, as if she were apologizing once more for everything they had been through.

In that moment, Pete and Ray were wheeling Helen's daughter into the room. Lindsey's little face was poking from the partially open bag. Debra approached the girl and caressed her affectionately. She still seemed lifeless, so pale and delicate that it was disturbing.

"Is she dead?" queried Woody alarmed by the tiny child's deathlike appearance.

Debra shook her head softly in response. Her smile had turned warm and loving.

"When you said that substance was safe enough to give it to children, I didn't think you had actually meant it. You gave it to _her_?!" He was getting more anxious by the second.

"Yes, I had to," she said, despondent.

"Get her the shot!" He ordered her.

Jordan found Woody's behavior odd. She sat on the chair next to him and tapped his right shoulder. "What is it Woody?

"That stuff she injected me with, it's awful!" he answered, knowing how horrible it would be for that little girl to wake up in an ocean of pain, just like he did.

"She'll get it, don't worry. It isn't time yet. I'm getting everything covered. Believe me," Debra replied while she approached Mr. Green.

The old man stared at her as she was coming closer to him. He had a look of respect for her on his face. Then, he told her firmly, "You can forget about the second part of the plan, dear. We can't jeopardize either you or us with it. You'll have to go with Helen and the children, just like she wanted."

"Yeah, I know. I screwed it all." She bit her lower lip and shook her head. "He was so cruel. She was asking him to stop… I couldn't stand it!" She added, worriedly, and stood by his side motionless.

"It wasn't your fault, dear. He did it to himself. We'll figure out another way to bring him down." Mr. Green took Debra into a kind embrace, wanting to comfort her. "She's still outside," he whispered into her ear after a moment.

Debra nodded to him, and he let go of her. She walked away, toward the dark corridor.

Woody was confused. Everyone was acting like they were all friends. Jordan even seemed comfortable around Mr. Green and the others, and yet, here he sat, still tied to this hideous chair. He shot Jordan a questioning look. "What's going on with these people?" he asked while Mr. Green was still holding Debra.

"Something really big," she replied. "They're running away with Senator Bloom's family. The Senator was shot in the chest, and Elliot… I mean, Detective Chandler took him to the hospital."

Jordan's explanation only confused him more. "That sounds really awful...but, I still don't understand."

"Well, Woody, I think the Senator had been abusing his family, and we got caught in the middle of a rescue mission," she answered as she reached behind her and gripped the back of the chair she was sitting in.

Mr. Green turned toward them when Debra left the room, and he immediately understood Jordan's movement. He called Hardy and ordered him, "Secure Dr. Cavanaugh to the chair… Not too tight," he added. He gazed at her with a smile on his face, and moved to walk toward the corridor. They still needed to bring in two more bags of precious cargo.

Woody was dumbfounded. As Hardy approached them, Woody questioned her in a whisper, "You know, no matter how good their intentions are they're still outlaws. You can't just sit here and not do anything to try to stop them. What is it, Jordan? Stockholm Syndrome?"

"No, Woody. It's called _doing the right thing_," she answered simply.


	10. Old couples, new couples, never couples

Chapter ten. **Old couples, new couples and **_**never **_**couples**.

It had been ten hours since Jordan had crashed the morgue van. Many unexpected events had followed. She and Woody had been abducted. Woody had been injected with a drug that left him not only unconscious, but also appearing as though he were dead. Jordan had helped the mysterious Mr. Green and his crew to make a staged murder scene completely believable. So, it didn't surprise her a bit that they were now climbing into a helicopter that had landed briefly in the warehouse parking lot just after sunrise.

Early morning light shone into the secluded parking lot when they left the ground.

Ten minutes before that, they were still tied to the chairs. Helen and her children had returned from their trip to limbo. Debra had taken care of everything, adjusting the dosages on the antidote so that they didn't suffer any pain. Helen was the only one that was really injured. She had taken quite a beating from her husband, but her physical injuries were small compared to the damage to her soul, which was much more painful. However, Debra's amorous attention alleviated her suffering from both kinds of injuries.

Woody had been talking to Jordan about the wisdom of her willingness to obey their captors; they still didn't know how trustworthy they could be. Jordan being Jordan trusted her instinct, which had been telling her since she first saw them that these people weren't criminals. With what she knew now, she had taken Helen's side, so, it was pretty much a waste of time for Woody try to convince her otherwise.

Though Jordan wouldn't have attempted any heroic moves to get away from their captors, she wasn't so sure about Woody. His cop instincts might lead him to try something, which might get him or any of the others in the group hurt. So, to keep him calm, she sat quietly tied to her chair, without complaining, almost serene. Neither she nor Woody was going to be released if it meant jeopardizing the success of the mission.

Jordan had been insisting that Mr. Green give her more details about the story; the puzzle still had a lot of holes and she wanted to fill them in. She needed to understand the picture completely, so both she and Woody could get the story straight. It was the only way they could help Helen and her family without accidentally implicating themselves as accomplices. Mr. Green was still reluctant to say anything. However, he was convinced it was something that Helen and Debra should decide; it was their call.

Anyhow, just before the group had come into the warehouse after the big set up, Debra had started to tell the story to Woody. She had been feeling so guilty about their actions and how they had treated Jordan and Woody that she felt compelled to justify themselves in their eyes. Helen agreed with her, so from the hour Helen and her children had awakened, until the time Drew came from the station after she had given her statement, Jordan and Woody learned the whole story.

"I married Gordon Bloom ten years ago," Helen began. She settled herself as comfortably as she could on a chair near Woody and Jordan and told them the long, ugly story of her marriage to a man the world knew as a political genius, but who she had come to learn was a monster capable of unspeakable evil. "After Bradley and Lindsey were born, I had no life of my own. Between being the wife of a popular politician and a mother of two, I had no friends; I was alone."

"What about your family, your parents?" Jordan inquired.

"My mother died right after Gordon and I were married. My father is a retired Navy officer with poor communication skills and very high moral standards. He was intolerant and expected too much of me. All he saw was how well off I was as a high society woman; it was all that mattered to him, or so I thought at the time."

"But, didn't you notice Bloom wasn't the right guy for you?" Woody questioned her, he was still unconvinced that this whole disaster couldn't have been prevented earlier. "I mean, he must have showed something of his _dark side_ to you before it got so bad that you had to resort to staging your deaths," he added, adamantly.

Jordan glared at him, astonished at what he had just said. Whose side was he on anyway?

Woody returned the look, apologetic, but not giving in an inch on the question he had established. "What? I just want to know," he added.

Helen sighed despondently, and continued. "Don't worry, that's exactly the question I expect everybody will be asking me." She paused, as though she were gathering strength to reveal her life to a stranger. "To your eyes, Gordon is a respectable member of society. You don't know the monster… I mean, I didn't know him either. He is extremely intelligent. He comes from a family of great political tradition and he inherited their persuasiveness. He fooled me the same way he fools everyone else. Success started to come so easily to him that I think he got bored, needed bigger and bigger challenges. He could make people do anything he wanted, so he started to seek out other kinds of excitement, like drugs, women and... sexual perversions. I didn't know anything about the last thing for a long time, but one day he forced me into one of his sexual games." She stopped abruptly, ashamed by her confession. She bit her lower lip and hung her head. Debra came to stand next to her chair, patting her hair lovingly to reassure her.

Helen looked up to her lover in despair, and grabbed hold of her left hand, somehow to keep herself from drowning. Then, she turned to them. "His working team always covered it all for him. He's such a valuable investment and it's just the little price they all have to pay," she said angrily. "He started to bring his drugs and his horrid life to our home. One day he was so stoned, that he let one of his _friends_ rape my little Lindsay." Her voice was trembling, and she couldn't continue for a long moment.

Jordan felt sorry for Helen, but when she heard her last statement, anger began to boil in her stomach. Woody lowered his head in anguish. This was the first he had heard that the child had been raped; the revelation hit him like a torrent of freezing water.

Helen spoke again, "Beating me and our children was a regular habit, and since he wasn't going to let his image get stained, the injuries we received were treated only by people he trusted completely. No hospital visits, no real medical attention, until I escaped with Lindsey after the rape… incident, to the hospital where Debra works."

Both women shared a loving look. "That was how I met her," she added.

Debra raised her lover's hand to her mouth and kissed the back of it.

Helen went on with the story, still looking at Debra with pure devotion. "She took care of my Lindsay, and offered her help. She wanted to inform the authorities about the abuse, but I wouldn't let her. I was so frightened of what Gordon could do to my children. I knew he needed them to protect his shiny political reputation, but I still feared for their lives. We were becoming a stone in his shoe. I believed he would eventually decide he didn't need us anymore and have us killed."

Helen sighed again, resignedly this time. "Debra had always insisted that I tell everything to my father, the Admiral. And I finally did it, after two more horrible episodes. The first was when Gordon threatened Debra's life if she didn't leave me and the children alone. The second was when my little girl was raped again." Helen's voice faltered once more, but she went on determinedly. "I knew then that I couldn't wait any longer. I couldn't let the abuse rule our lives and I wasn't going to let Gordon turn me into his accomplice!" she spat out, her chest about to explode with restrained emotion.

"I swallowed my pride and talked with my father. It was so embarrassing and sad… but I told him everything, even my relationship with Debra. But to my surprise, he believed me. Moreover, he supported me… Mr. Green appeared at my door one day, three weeks ago. He came up with the plan to fake our deaths. Although shooting Gordon wasn't a part of the plot…" she uttered, glancing at Debra remorsefully. "I'm sorry, I didn't want you involved like this; it's my fault," she finished.

Helen was on the verge of tears, but to Woody's surprise, the delicate and fragile woman he had met as Debra before, turned into a strong and vibrating woman now. She knelt down beside Helen and kissed her passionately, unashamed by the many eyes that were watching them. "I love you, Helen. I wasn't about to let that piece of crap beat you to death in front of me! And you know what? I would do it again if I had to," she said, resolutely, at the end.

Woody observed them, a mixture of confusion and surprise in his eyes at their amorous display. However, he still wanted to know more details about the shooting and the way they were going to handle Debra's responsibility, just in case he needed to explain it _properly_ to his superiors, when they were released. Turning to Debra, he said, "Yeah, I know you shot the Senator because he was beating Helen, but before, you mentioned someone else who was there, who tried to talk you out of it. What was her name again? Drew, I think you said--" He didn't finish his question because Mr. Green approached them just then accompanied by a beautiful, young, blonde woman who had apparently just arrived.

Jordan immediately recognized her as the witness from the previous faked crime scene, and she let everybody know, as the woman reached them, "I think she's the same Drew that you're talking about. The _girlfriend_ Bloom brought to his home, and at the same time, she's Mr. Green's granddaughter, aren't you?" she asked her.

Drew just smiled at them as Mr. Green gave them a knowing look. "My granddaughter gave an astonishing performance! I'm so proud of her. She acted like a pretentious, ambitious woman in search of excitement and high class opportunities. She made sure she was introduced to Senator Bloom and eventually was able to gain his trust. With her _attributes,_it wasn't long before he had made her his new girlfriend. Tonight was the first time she went to his home. Of course, Bloom had no idea it would also be the _only_ time she was there. Every detail of what happened tonight had been planned for weeks, all except the last minute incident of Debra shooting Bloom. But Drew even explained that to Detective Chandler perfectly, without implicating herself in any way. Didn't you, honey?" He turned to smile at his granddaughter, giving her the cue to tell her part of the story.

Drew's harmonious voice filled the room as she related her part in the drama. "What I told the detective in charge was a combination of what we had planned beforehand and something I had to make up in a hurry. I told him that the Senator and I had been drinking all afternoon at a well-known bar where everybody knows me. I agreed to go home with him because he said his family wasn't there. But that wasn't true. He told me to get into bed with his wife so he could watch the two of us together. Filthy creep! He thought his power would make people do anything for him. But when his wife refused to do it, Bloom flew into a rage and beat her furiously," she recalled.

Her tone became more serious as she continued. "Everything I have just told you is what really happened. This next part is what I made up to tell the detective."

Before she related the rest of the tale, she sat up straight, shook her hair and settled her facial features into a look of sheer horror. Jordan realized she was getting into the 'character' of Bloom's distraught girlfriend, the only 'eyewitness' to the evening's gruesome events.

"So, Bloom was beating his wife. All the yelling and loud banging brought the children running upstairs and Bloom got even angrier. The children were terrified and they ran into the girl's bedroom with their mother right behind them. Bloom grabbed a gun from a drawer in the nightstand in one hand and me with the other. He dragged me along with him, chasing his wife and children. The children were screaming in terror, and he just shot them in cold blood, right in front of me and his wife. After that, his wife snapped, and she fought for the gun against him. I heard two shots. His wife was the first to fall. The Senator followed her, though he still was struggling to keep himself conscious."

Drew softened her tone of voice as she continued, getting out of her previous gloomy 'characterization'. "I didn't touch anything or anybody, just called 911 right away. I explained the detective I really didn't know anything about CPR, so, I waited for help to arrive. At the precinct, the GSR test proved I hadn't shot any gun. He considered me a true witness, I signed up my statement, and left the police station as free as a bird," she finished; the same captivating smile she must have shown to Chandler was on her face.

Mr. Green had grabbed a seat next to them while Drew was talking. When she finished, he applauded her, excitedly. "Amazing! Honey, absolutely fantastic."

Then, he turned to Woody and Jordan and continued telling the story. It was obvious he was in a good mood. "So, the time between when the Senator and Drew were last seen in a public place and the time Drew's call came in to the emergency call center, was when we staged the crime scene. Bloom had the bad taste to bring his girlfriends home and try to get them into bed with Helen. He did it time after time; he was so predictable... Anyhow, the original plan had Debra going to the police station to testify against the Senator when she _supposedly_ learned of their deaths the next day. She would have told them all about the abuse and the rapes, the idea being that Bloom wouldn't go unpunished for the abuse if it was ever found out that their deaths had been faked. However, given the unexpected turn of events, and because Debra would likely be considered a suspect because of her relationship with Helen, the plan had to be changed a bit. Also, Debra _does_ have gun powder residue on her hands; she was the only one who fired Bloom's gun aiming to a living target. I mean, we had to incriminate Bloom, so Ray put the gun in his hand, and fired it three times into that." He showed them a piece of material that lay on the table next to them.

Mr. Green stopped for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. At last, he addressed Helen and Debra. "We need to implement a new plan to bring Bloom down. I was just informed a little while ago that he survived the surgery and is expected to recover. We need to exonerate you two of everything. After all, it was in self-defense, or at least it was to protect those two little angels," he said, nodding toward Bradley and Lindsey who were sleeping peacefully on a makeshift bed on the floor.

"So, we're going to release you soon, my friends," Mr. Green informed Jordan and Woody, turning to look at them, the story telling already finished. "However the place isn't any site near Boston, and for your own sake you won't know where this site is, not even when we arrive there. You'll need to trust me, it's safe and your friends will be notified in a convenient time and through a reliable channel, so they can go and _rescue_ you," he finished, grinning at Jordan and sharing a wicked look with her.

The children were still sleeping when the distinctive 'whop-whop-whop' of a helicopter hovering overhead filtered into the building, making it sound like a resonance box. Everybody prepared to leave. Jordan and Woody were liberated from their bindings, but it was impossible for him to move from the chair. Woody had been sitting there for more than ten hours. His legs were sore and his back hurt like crazy, especially in the region of his old gunshot wound.

"Come on, Woody. We have already discussed it," she said slowly and wearily. "We cooperate, they free us, and then everybody can continue with their lives." Jordan compelled him to get on his feet, with a head movement, but he just looked at her, annoyance written all over his face.

"I can't move, Jordan," he confessed, angrily, his voice so low only Jordan could hear him. It was so embarrassing and frustrating that he felt like crying.

She stared at him anxiously, and waited for him to be ready. "Oh, I'm sorry!" She whispered to him. "Is it your back?" She asked, concerned.

He glared at her and answered, "Just don't…" clenching his teeth, he silenced whatever he was going to say. Once upon a time, he had mistaken her worry for pity, but time had taught him how wrong he had been, so he struggled now to control his temper.

With an extra effort, he finally could move. His face was pale, but Jordan wasn't sure if it was for the effort or for the anger. However, she held his hand and took his arm around her shoulders, so he could support his weight on her. She did it so gently and lovingly that it took Woody by surprise.

"Don't be angry, I'll let you hold me, if that's what you want," she told him, glancing at him sweetly. She was masking her help with the hug so he wouldn't feel mortified, in case he was thinking that everybody was watching him.

He let her do it. It certainly lessened his aching, but mostly it boosted his spirit. What did that loving gesture mean? That was something he was going to find out when they were free.

They walked toward the exit, embracing like an old couple, even though they weren't a couple, and never had been one. No, their story was one of deep feelings held at bay, only showing what was necessary to let the other one know that they were more than very good friends.


	11. Did you say ‘outside Boston’?

Chapter eleven**. Did you say 'outside Boston'?**

Pete, Helen, Debra and the children climbed into the Aspen SUV. Ray took the morgue van. Hardy drove the white Honda and Drew got into the Chrysler 300. They all disappeared down the road when Mr. Green, Jordan and Woody climbed in the helicopter.

Mr. Green sat beside the pilot, leaving Jordan and Woody in the back seats. They were asked to wear the same kind of knitted masks Jordan had used before, so they wouldn't know where they were going. Jordan put it on her head, and although she was tired of wearing it, she still wanted to cooperate with Mr. Green's plan. Woody put it on his head because Jordan compelled him to do so. It was a given.

Once they were inside the helicopter, Mr. Green got into a lively discussion with the pilot, who he referred to as JJ, about the Jets football team. They discussed the team's new quarterback acquisition, Mark Sanchez, and speculated about how he would compare with Joe Namath. Oblivious to the passengers sitting behind them, they talked for well over an hour about various players and their statistics.

Meanwhile, Jordan and Woody were terribly quiet, each lost in their own thoughts. Although neither of them had slept all night, they were both wide awake, probably from all the adrenaline brought on by the excitement of the past several hours. It was impossible for either of them to rest.

Woody had been wondering about the peculiar behavior Jordan had displayed toward him during all they had gone through that bizarre night. The questions he was posing in light of all that had happened to them were always the same:

Was Jordan's concern for him a sign that she thought of him as more than a very good friend? Did it imply that she loved him? Or that she was at least close to it?

It had appeared to him that she was extremely disturbed when he was injected. His dream of heaven could very possibly have some _real _ingredients. Like the 'I love you' part and the kiss. It had been so oddly vivid that he was having trouble believing he had just made them up.

Even Debra had told him that 'his girlfriend' loved him very much. Why would she have said that? She must have known something.

In the past, he had experienced some awfully unpleasant moments when he had interpreted Jordan's attitudes as being on the same wavelength as his own. One of his talents was an exceptional ability to read other people, a quality that helped him immensely in his work as a detective. However, when it came to Jordan, he was a complete disaster. He couldn't read her any more than he could read a Chinese newspaper. Yet, tonight she had been so loving and supportive, he couldn't help but believe it was worth one more try.

So, there were they, secured to their seats in the back of an helicopter, blinded by the mask they were wearing, without knowing where they were headed. Woody knew Mr. Green's team didn't represent a real threat to them anymore, but he still had to follow their whims, because Jordan wouldn't have it any other way, and he always ended up doing what she wanted, even though he wasn't convinced it was the best thing to do.

He had the feeling that the place they were going to be released was somehow inaccessible; it was the only explanation for why Mr. Green had bothered to travel in a chopper rather in his car.

Assuming Mr. Green could be trusted, their friends and co-workers would be notified of their whereabouts after his people were safely away. Still, a rescue effort could take days, during which he would be alone with Jordan in a remote, secluded location outside of Boston, with no cell phones or any other way to contact the outside world. Now that he thought about it, Mr. Green could just be doing him an enormous favor. Jordan would have no place to go; she would have to talk to him. That is, if he could gather the nerve to finally demand some answers from her. But what if they weren't the answers he wanted to hear? He really wanted it to work out this time. He'd be crushed if he tried again and she didn't feel the same way he did. His enthusiasm swiftly became dread as he realized he might be setting himself up for a world of hurt--again.

Meanwhile, Jordan's thoughts had led her to pretty much the same conclusion that Woody's had.

She had put herself in such a predicament once more!

Every time she and Woody had been taken away from Boston, something had happened between them. It was like a curse.

It wasn't that she wished any of those wonderful moments in the past hadn't happened; some of those times were almost magical. But when it came time to return to Boston, to go back to their 'real' lives, neither of them could seem to recognize what they had shared while they were away. She had herself to blame for the majority of those neglected memories...and feelings, but Woody had destroyed some of them, like what they had shared at The Lucy Carver Inn.

She had turned down JD in such a painful way and Woody's answer was moving on with Lu.

Woody had been growing on her since she first met him. All their bantering had been their one and only way of flirting with each other until she found herself completely, madly in love with him. He had been her best friend, her companion in distressing moments, the person who, in a way, had come to know her better than she knew herself. It was that last thing that was so irritating at times that all she wanted to do was run away from him, just to find him again in the end.

She had admitted to herself that she loved him after the infamous moment that punk shot him in the guts. She had been so close to losing him… and it had been so traumatic when he had rejected her. She could only say she was reaping what she had planted in him.

However, when they came to friendly terms again, she gave in once more when they were snowed in up in Littleton Village, and he still didn't want her after that. She wasn't about to risk her heart again with him. It could destroy her. They had been functioning perfectly well as friends--until now. She had survived her mother's murder, her father's lies, JD's death and even being accused of his murder. She had survived brain surgery for Christ sake! That's what she needed to keep doing. Surviving was what she did best.

At that moment, she felt his hand moving slowly across her left thigh.

Her heart stopped for a second in surprise.

When she recovered, she asked, "What are you doing, Woody?" She struggled to keep her voice neutral, but her amazement betrayed her and it came out sounding like a scolding.

Woody felt like a little kid caught doing something wrong. After he dared to act in result of his reflections, he found himself searching for her hand. With the mask on his head, he was making some risky movements with his hand on her. The unforeseen outcome infuriated him, and he took the mask off of him as he answered angrily, "I just wanted to hold your hand! I wanted to know if you were OK."

'Strike one!' he thought, as he pulled his hand back and put it on his chest. He sat still in his seat after that.

"Oh...," she said regretfully. When her heart rate had stabilized, she said calmly, "I'm OK, Woody. Give me your hand." She lifted her hand in search of his.

He smiled, recovering from his ranting. He took her mask off, feasting his sparkling eyes on her lovely face as she struggled to focus her own eyes in the blinding morning light. 'What?!' she blurted out.

While she blinked, she realized that Woody had taken her hand in his, and she finally could see his grinning face.

"We're far enough, Jordan. Let's forget about the masks, OK? Besides, it's not like I could do anything up here. Look!" He signaled with his free hand toward the chopper's window and Jordan turned to see an amazing view of a huge, endless forest.

"We're somewhere on the way to the Great North Woods, New Hampshire, or the White Mountains," he informed her while he let go of her hand but encircled her shoulders immediately after, leaning his head into her side in order to have a better picture of what she was looking at.

He was suddenly too close to her, his warm breath caressing her ear, and she shivered with pleasure. His embrace left her confused, her head spinning from his scent, her heartbeat racing furiously.

What the hell did he think he was doing?

She was mad at herself. Two tiny moves from him had turned her upside down in a second. How was she supposed to fight the curse of 'outside Boston' if she couldn't handle a little innocent hug?

"What do you think of this, Jordan?" he uttered in a low, inviting voice. His mouth almost touched her ear, and even though he was still focused on the view, she could sense a deeper meaning in the way he had spoken.

Jordan was torn between the urge to kiss him, for obvious reasons; and the urge to snap at him, for making her feel so vulnerable and weak. In the end, she didn't do either. She pulled herself together and answered, "We certainly are far away from my city life, Woody. I don't know how to cope in the wilderness, so I hope you really are the _Boy Scout_ I always believed you were, huh?"

Because she was smiling, he couldn't fully understand what she was implying with her comment. Did she want him to behave _properly_, in a 'keep-his-hands-to-himself' sense? Did he have to consider that as 'strike two'?

His heart sank. He took his hand off her shoulders quickly, lifting his arm to rest upon the seat's back, and masked his abrupt move with a new tease. "Well, city girl, I could teach you everything you've always wanted to know about surviving in the wild with a hungry bear."

He was back to square one with her. They still had a lot of time alone together, but he wasn't sure when he could gather courage again to make another move, if ever. It was frustrating, as it had been with her since day one.

Jordan regretted what she said the minute she sensed his warm body going away from her. What did she really want? Two more seconds and she would have planted that kiss on him that she had fantasized about a moment ago. And now, she had nothing of him. Oh, well, it was probably for the best.

Out of the blue, she heard Mr. Green's voice informing them, "We've arrived." He turned to look at them with a wide smile on his face. "I promise the place is beautiful. It would be like going on vacation." The old man didn't know, but he had just saved Jordan from more self inflected torture.

The chopper descended slowly until it landed in a small open field surrounded on all sides by dense forest. To one side, hidden among the trees, was a small cabin and nothing more.

Twelve hours of rush had led them to that place. They had shown how good they were to deal with adversity, with danger, with death fear, how to face life-threatening events, how to sympathize to whom needed a friendly hand. However, what they were facing now had to do with something they really didn't know how to manage. The fears they hadn't been able to confront, inner demons, hidden love, a history of denial, self inflected wounds, and the damage they had done to the person they needed the most.

Let's watch if they can overcome it while they're _**waiting for help to arrive**_!

-0-00-000-0000-00000-0000-000-00-0-

**A/N**.- A night of frantic events ends here. However, there are still some loose ends I want to explain. For example, what is happening in the morgue while Jordan and the bodies she was supposed to be delivering are missing; what happens to Bloom; who is this mysterious Mr. Green? But I bet you've already guessed that what really charms me, is telling how Jordan and Woody are going to manage to hide from each other in a place where they can't escape.

The sequel it's already in the oven and it's going to be entitled '**Waiting for Help to Arrive'. **

I want to thank **moviemom44** for being a wonderful beta reader. You know that help from an expert is always appreciated, but when English isn't your mother tongue, the same support, added with a lot of patience and extensive explanations, is better than welcome. Wendie, I hope some day I become as good writer as you are.

Thanks to my readers. You know, when I hit my 'Story Traffic' and see that people from such different places of our cyber-planet are reading my story, my heart bumps excitedly. I love you all!

And finally, thanks to my reviewers. When I open my mail and I find a 'Review Alert' in my Inbox I'm the happiest woman on earth, like if I were five again. Thanks for reminding me how it feels to be that young.

_**To Be Continued…**_


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